


Family Matters

by Sexyfishtalk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Interfering Brothers, Interfering Parents, Lies, LiveJournal Prompt, M/M, Mpreg, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexyfishtalk/pseuds/Sexyfishtalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on Livejournal that I'll never find again.</p><p>Greg and Mycroft were young and in love when Greg found out he was pregnant. Through quick intervention of Mr and Mrs. Holmes, they were separated.</p><p>Now, 15 years later, Greg's past is catching up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure about the title, I may change it later but for now, Enjoy!

_Yo Pop, we out of milk. -OL_

Greg rolled his eyes at the text. School was wasted on that kid. The newly promoted inspector was standing outside a crime scene, while his forensics man gave him a rundown of the case. Anderson was just getting into detail about how the victim had lost his head when a new voice shouted out at them.

"Wrong! You are wrong, go away!" 

"Who the Hell is that?" Anderson sneered at the twitchy, dark haired man

Greg shook his head. "I have no idea." And yet... there was something terribly familiar about him. Greg could swear his name was on the tip of his tongue.

*

_"Sherlock! Sherlock, for God's sake. Mummy and Daddy are expecting us for tea in an hour!"_

_Eighteen year-old Gregory Lestrade's head popped up over the side of his motorcycle in time to see a boy of about ten storming away from an older boy with lovely ginger hair.  "Sherlock, will you please stop!" Sherlock stopped. Right in front of Greg's bike. The elder boy watched with mild amusement as the boy Sherlock's brother came up and grasped him by the the crook of his arm. The nameless brother caught sight of Greg, did a double take, then turned to march away with a faint blush blossoming over his neck. Greg finished up his bike with a grin on his face_. 

*

"Stick him in the drunk tank till he comes down enough to tell us his name." Greg instructed his new sergeant, Sally. He rubbed a hand over his face when she walked away, thankful that his shift was over and any paperwork would be able to wait till morning. 

Greg arrived home to find his fifteen year old son splayed out on the couch, the kitchen a mess, and his homework still in his book bag.  

"How long have you been playing that?" Greg asked with a nod to the video game playing on the tv.

"Don't know. What time is it?"

Greg groaned. Sometimes being a single parent of a teenager was more work than the job he was paid for. "Will you turn off the game and start your homework please?"

"But come on, it's Friday!"

"Is it really?" Oliver Lestrade looked up at him. At fifteen, Oliver was closing in on 6 feet, had the same dark brown eyes as Greg and the same cheeky smile. He was practically the spitting image of his dad, except for the dark ginger hair. That was his father's.  "Long day?" He asked.

"You have no idea." Greg sighed. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked around the small flat. "Come on, help me clear up the kitchen and I'll order us something for dinner."

*

_Greg wiped down the counters holding the coffee pots. He had taken a job at a local coffee shop to pay for bike parts and to save up for his own place. He heard the bell over the door chime and waited for the person to reach the counter._

_"Small coffee please. Black."_

_Greg turned to face the new customer and smiled when he saw it was the same ginger haired young man from earlier that week._

_"Can I tempt you with anything else? You look like an apple turnover type of man."_

_The teen licked his lips, eyeing up the pastry behind the glass display. Finally he sighed and shook his head. "Just the coffee please."_

_"Suit yourself." Greg nodded. He prepared the order and glanced back at the man he was clearly beginning to grow a crush on. With another cheeky flash of his teeth, he wrote out his name and number onto the side of the cardboard cup. The man paid and left with a curious look about Greg's expression._

_Greg arrived home that night to a blinking answering machine._

*

Oliver looked at him with disappointment. "I thought you booked today off!"

They were sitting side-by-side on their couch each with a large plate of french toast and orange slices. It was the following morning since the mysterious, and high witness had turned up at Greg's crime scene. He and Oliver had made plans to spend time together that day, but now Greg had no choice but to backout.

"I'm sorry, Ollie. It's only for the morning though, we can do stuff tonight."

"Yeah." Oliver grumbled. "Unless another more important case comes up again." Oliver instantly regretted the words. The apology was clearly written on his face, but the words still hit his father hard.

Greg stood up and quietly left the room.

Once in his office, Greg busied himself with his work. Around eleven when he was finally winding down the paperwork, Anderson appeared at his doorway. "Sorry sir, the witness from last night is finally awake. They said to send for you when he did."

Greg glanced at the time. He suddenly deeply regretted letting Sally have the day off. "Yeah alright. I'm on my way."

The witness in question was still curled up on the hard bed in the drunk tank. His head was covered by his grey hoodie and his legs were drawn up to his chest. "Good morning there sir!" Greg said in a bright, loud voice.

The man turned away from him with a low groan. "Oh go direct some traffic." He muttered in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah that's nice." Greg mumbled. "Look I'm just here to take your statement, if you cooperate we can get through this as quick and easily as you want it. Now, you witnessed Mr. Barron's death at around six o' clock last night is that right?" 

"No."

Greg looked down at his report. The coroner had put time of death at that time, how wrong could it be? "No, okay so what time-"

"I never witnessed the murder."

The older detective crossed his arms. "Alright, then how'd you know all that stuff? Where the weapon was hidden, and why the killer did it? If this is a confession, do you mind waiting for me to go grab the proper forms?"

The witness or whatever he was sat up and glared at Greg. His eyes were bloodshot, and his whole face appeared sunken beneath his unwashed black hair. "I never saw any murder, and I didn't commit one either. I simply observed. Something none of you seem capable of- hold on. What did you say your name was?"

Greg furrowed his brows at the sudden change of subject. "Uh Lestrade. Detective Inspector Lestrade."

The man blinked then fell back against the wall laughing like a madman. "Oh that is lovely. Of all the people to arrest me, it has to be my bloody brother's ex."

"What are you-"

"Oh come now, has it really been that long that you don't you recognize me Inspector?"

Greg felt his stomach drop. The room suddenly felt to small as he stared at the man, finally realizing why he'd seemed so familiar. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Hello again." Without another word, Greg turned and fled the room. Sherlock smirked. "I thought you wanted my statement!"

*

_"Really Greg, you need to learn to observe more."_

_"I observe plenty."_

_It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Mycroft, Greg, and Sherlock had taken a large picnic up to the park to spend the day there. "Sherlock leave those toads alone! You'll get warts!"_

_Greg's head was settled comfortable in his boyfriend's lap. He waited for him to finish berating his brother before raising another strawberry to his lips. Mycroft ate the offered food and smiled down at Greg. People might have thought they were an oddly paired couple, Greg with his dark leather, piercings, and motorcycle; and Mycroft with his tucked in shirt, pristine posture, and an honest to God chauffer. But they were happy together and that was all that mattered._

_Well that, plus the sex was_ hot _._

_The two boys had been together for six months and Greg had found himself falling rapidly in love with younger man. The only problem was, Mr and Mrs. Holmes. No matter how much Mycroft told him that they did like him, Greg was no idiot. The one dinner he'd been invited to had been spent in a tense, terse silence. Mrs. Holmes had lectured him on the importance of good grades, and had been deaf to his assurances of being a straight A, high B student. Mr. Holmes had been worse. He had been convinced Greg had to be some sort of delinquent, even going so far as to ask if he'd spent time in prison. But still, Greg didn't mind. No matter what Mycroft's parents said, it was all fine._

_Until it wasn't_.

*

Pizza for dinner in front of the tv. It wasn't fancy, but neither of the Lestrade's were complaining. They were discussing their plans for the evening, a trip to the movies to see the new action thriller Oliver was excited for, when there came a knock on the door. Greg frowned, neither one of them was expecting company and it was too late for it to be a solicitor.

Greg crossed the room and opened the door. Then promptly slammed it shut again. "Oliver, go to your room."

"What-"

"Just go and stay until I call you."

Once Oliver was fully out of the way, Greg took some steadying breaths then reopened the door. 

"Mycroft."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man you guys are really digging this story, which is awesome. I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

_"Darling, are you alright?" Greg's mother tapped on the door._

_The young man raised his head off of the cool seat of the toilet with a groan. He looked at the door and considered going to open it, but another wave of nausea simply caused him to stick his head back into the toilet without another thought. "Yeah, Mum." He rasped out. "'M fine. Think I caught that flu bug that's going around."_

_"There isn't any flu bug that's going around." His mother replied._

_"There's always a flu bug that's going around."_

_His mother was silent while Greg once again emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. When he was through, she started up again. This time more delicately. "Greg, love, I know this is probably just silly old mum brain worrying over nothing but I just, I need to ask. You and Mycroft, you are... being safe aren't you?"_

_"God, Mum why are you asking that_ now _?"  His mother fell silent again. Greg mulled the question over while he considered the current situation he was in. His eyes grew wide as the light bulb went off over his head. "_ Shit _!"_

_"Oh Gregory."_

*

Greg flipped to the next page of the report with a long sigh. The day was never-ending and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Wednesday had arrived with no horrific murders to really report since the Friday. Greg wasn't sure if he was relieved or concerned about it. He settled for a happy medium of being nervously pleased. 

Anderson appeared at the doorway with a large cup of coffee. "Sir?" He called in, raising the cup for Greg to see. Greg sighed in relief as he beckoned him in. Anderson sat down across from him with his own cup. "Pretty quiet week eh?" 

Greg nodded. "Almost makes me nervous for what's coming next."

Anderson chuckled in agreement, then a look that was close to concern appeared on his face. "Well I mean, a quiet week doesn't necessarily mean trouble's coming, you know."

Greg took a sip of his drink with a frown. "You don't say."

"It's just, some of the other men and I, we've noticed that you've seemed... tense since last Friday," Anderson barreled on, "And we wanted to make sure you were alright." 

Greg sighed. "I'm fine, Anderson, really. Any worries I look like I have are all family related not work."

"Problems with your son?"

"No not exactly. It's not important." 

Greg was spared any further prodding into his personal life by Sally Donovan appearing at the door. "We've got a murder sir, just got the call."

"Excellent." Greg let out a relieved sigh and stood. "Let's get moving then."

*

The investigation was a simple open and shut case of a domestic dispute going wrong. The DI was standing by his car filling out the forms for Mrs. Jenkins' arrest while the body of the late husband was wheeled into the ambulance. "Sir?"

  Greg looked up. "You find something, Anderson?"

The forensic technician shook his head. "No sir but," He nodded towards the police line, "He's back again." 

Greg followed Anderson's gaze to see the familiar face of Sherlock Holmes peering over the police tape. He was dressed in what looked like the same hoodie he had, had on, on Friday. The young man's eyes were darting around the scene with a hungry look in them as Greg approached. "You can't be here, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes settled on Greg then rolled. "Please like I really care about a simple case of patricide."

"Well then why- wait _patricide_?"

"Obviously." Sherlock hummed. "No, I'm here to deliver a message for my brother."

Greg's nostrils flared. He should have realized Mycroft would give up that easily. "Oh yeah? Well I've got one for him too. Tell him to stuff it."

"You haven't even heard the message."

"Don't need to." Greg muttered, turning back towards the crime scene."

"You know, I'll never understand what happened between you and my brother. My memories of your time together always seemed so sickeningly happy." Sherlock called after him. "Then one day, you stopped coming around, and Mycroft shut himself away."

"Leave it, Sherlock." Greg muttered. "And go home."

Sherlock watched him go with a quirk of his eyebrow. It really had been a long time since the two had seen each other, if the older man though telling Sherlock to _leave_ something would do anything but amp up the younger man's curiousity. Sherlock turned to leave, filled with determination to get to the bottom of the new mystery.

*

That night, in the middle of a video game match of father against son, Oliver looked nervously at Greg.  "Dad?"

"Shh shh! You're throwing off my concentration! I'm going to win this time for sure- oh come on, how'd you do that?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "X, Y, Up arrow, B, I've told you that before!" The teenager shook his head at his father's ineptness with the simplest of game. "I want to ask you ask you something, he added quietly. "What's that?"

"Who was that man who came over on Saturday?"

Greg cringed and looked away. "We're not discussing this, Ollie."

Oliver frowned. "You've never kept anything from me before, why now?"

Greg shut off the game. He didn't want to do this, but Oliver would find out eventually, especially if Mycroft continued to turn up, or send people for him. He'd rather have his son hear about it from himself, than anyone else. "Come on, let's go out."

*

_Greg shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms and stared at the man he hadn't seen in close to sixteen years. "How the Hell did you find us?"_

_"It wasn't hard after Sherlock phoned me." Mycroft's accent was just as posh as the day they met, and still managed to make Greg feel weak in the knees. Greg refused to acknowledge the feeling, instead he glared over Mycroft's shoulder at the chipping paint on the wall behind him. "Well?" Mycroft finally spoke._

_"Well what?"_

_"May I meet him?"_

_"No."_

_"I want to meet him."_

_"Yeah well I want a million dollars and jet pack." Greg shot back._

_Mycroft sniffed. "It always is about money for you isn't it?"_

_Greg felt anger rising up in him. He marched back inside the flat and slammed the door. But the satisfying BANG never came. Greg turned slowly. "Unless you want to lose that, I suggest you remove it."_

_Mycroft stared at him through the narrow space between the door and the wall held apart by his beloved umbrella. "I have a right to see him, you know that, Gregory."_

_"No, Myc! No, you don't get to do that! You don't get to barge into our lives after this long and just expect me to go along with it. You don't!" Greg pushed on the door, listening with a sick pleasure to the sound of the umbrella beginning to crack._

_Mycroft pulled it free and Greg finally slammed the door all the way shut. He didn't step away from it until the sound of Mycroft's footsteps disappeared._

*

"I want to meet him."

"Oliver..."

Greg and Oliver were sitting in a nearby coffee shop. Greg had walked them both down before he answered any questions. He fully admitted it had been a stall tactic, but having a warm cup in his hands had seemed to help in the end.

"I can, can't I? It's one of my rights. That's what he said, I heard him."

Greg sighed. "Ol, you've got to understand. That man that you heard, he isn't a nice man. Not even a good one really."

Oliver stared at his father as if he hoped to decipher what he meant by simply looking at him. "Did he... hurt you? When you were together?"

Greg looked down at his tea, swirling the drink around silently. "Yeah, he did. He hurt me. In the most terrible way imaginable."

"How?"

"He broke my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually planned on updating my other story 'A Happy Announcement,' today, but then I wound up writing this instead, so yay you guys got a chapter a day earlier than planned! Enjoy!

Dinner at the Holmes' is never what a person might call a warm family visit. After Sherlock had called Mycroft, the elder brother had convinced him to come to dinner. Now the four Holmes' were sitting silently and stiffly around the old family table. Sherlock felt like he was ten years old again and he hated it. "I ran into Gregory Lestrade the other day." He said casually, in an attempt to start any sort of conversation.

The reaction to the simple sentence was instantaneous and fascinating to watch. Mr. Holmes's knife screeched across his plate, his face greying. Mrs. Holmes tensed, but showed no other outward reaction. Mycroft tensed as well, but unlike his mother, Mycroft's eyes flicked up to meet Sherlock's then away again. Mycroft seemed to shrink two sizes in his seat. He began moving his food around, but never made a move to eat it. It was highly unusual.

"Did you?" Mrs. Holmes spoke up. "I imagine he was living on a street corner somewhere, homeless and begging for money."

"No, he arrested me for drug use."

Mrs. Holmes set her utensils down sharply. "William Sherlock-"

"Oh please Mother. Don't act like you didn't figure out about that part of my life years ago."

She sighed. "Well, it still isn't polite dinner conversation. Pass the peas." The peas were passed and dinner continued in silence.

Mrs. Holmes dabbed at her lips a few minutes later looking thoughtful. "So he's working as a police officer now." She said, keeping her tone pleasant. "Good for him."

"Detective Inspector."

Three pairs of Holmes' heads turned to look at the speaker. "What was that dear?" Mrs. Holmes asked her eldest son. "He's a detective inspector now." Mycroft said louder.

Mrs. Holmes' lips thinned. "So you've spoken with him. What did he say?"

"It wasn't much of a conversation." Mycroft admitted with a sigh. "I was ejected soon after he saw who it was. Since then he's ignored three phone calls, a visit from Sherlock, and four emails." He gave his parents a humourless smile. He knew they wouldn't be at all upset by this news, and probably even saw it as a blessing disguise.

"I don't understand." Sherlock piped up. "You were both so angry with each other near the end, and clearly he's still upset about whatever it was that drove you two apart. Why pursue him at all?"

"Sherlock enough, you don't have all the facts."

"So tell me all the facts." Sherlock shot back at his brother. "I'm not a child anymore, I think I can handle it."

Mycroft pushed out from the table. He turned towards his parents with a stormy expression. "Thank you for dinner." He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. The three sat quietly in his wake. It was broken finally by Mrs. Holmes. She rang for a servant to clear up Mycroft's place then looked at Sherlock. "You're right," She sighed, "You're not a child anymore. It's time you stopped sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Sherlock scowled at her.

*

_"You're watching me again."_

_The low chuckle that followed confirmed Mycroft's deduction. He opened his eyes to find himself under the scrutiny of Greg, who had his head propped up on his arm. "Morning." Greg smiled._

_He leaned in to kiss_ _Mycroft, but the younger boy scrunched up his face. "I have morning breath." He mumbled. Greg leaned in and kissed him all the same.  When they pulled apart, Mycroft smiled. "Oh I see, you have morning breath too."_

_"Oi, watch it!" Greg chuckled._

_Mycroft leaned against Greg, while his boyfriend ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair._

_"You look quite nice like this." Greg smiled._

_"Oh yes?"_

_"Yeah."_

_Mycroft smirked at him._ _"Then perhaps I should just go naked all the time."_

_A sharp laugh escaped Greg. "You won't hear any complaints from me!" This statement was followed by more chuckles and a very long snogging session._

_When they pulled away, Mycroft ran his fingers along Greg's arm. He watched the way the skin rippled beneath his fingers when he outlined the devil skull tattoo that took up most of Greg's upper arm. "How long do you think you'll love me for?"_

_Greg's answer came without hesitation or pause. "Forever."_

*

A knock on Mycroft's office door shook him out of his reverie. "Yes come in, April, ah, May.. June..?"

The door opened to reveal his PA, BlackBerry and all. "It's Jan now, sir."

"Clever." He hummed. "Is there something you need?"

"No sir, but a DI Lestrade called for you."

"Is he still on the line?" Mycroft asked, already reaching for his phone.

Jan shook her head. "He left a message for you though. Said you'd understand what it meant."

Mycroft nodded. "Let's hear it then."

"His name is Oliver."

Mycroft stared down at his hands. He let out a slow breath then nodded again. "Thank you, Jan, that will be all."

His PA accepted the dismissal and left the room, already returning her attention back to her phone.

Mycroft sat for a long while after that thinking about the implications of Greg phoning to tell him the name of their son, but also knew he couldn't get his hopes up too much over it. This whole situation was a right mess.

*

_"Mycroft! Myc!"_

_Mycroft turned towards the familiar sound of his boyfriend's voice with a smile. He was walking home from the market when Greg found him.  "I've been phoning you!" The older boy said, he had a bright smile on his face and his eyes were shining with excitement._

_"I was out, clearly." Mycroft replied._

_"Well that was dumb of you,  I needed to talk to you!" Greg grinned. He took Mycroft's hand and led them towards a nearby bench. "Come on, let's sit."_

_Mycroft allowed himself to be led over. He looked at Greg with curiousity, wanting to know what he had to say._

_Greg sat them down and took a deep breath. He met Mycroft's eyes and took hold of both his hands. "So.. Mum and I just got back from the doctor's-"_

_"Are you alright?" Mycroft frowned. Greg's smile grew wider and he nodded. This only caused Mycroft's confusion to grow more. Had Greg been expecting a bad diagnosis? He had never expressed any concerns about his health before._

_"Yeah I'm alright, better than alright. Maybe a bit.. nervous." He chuckled. "I.. um.. you love me right?" His voice took on a serious tone with the unexpected question._

_"Yes of course I do. You know that."_

_"Yeah I just, I needed to hear it again." Greg said quietly. "Because, I'm... pregnant. I'm going to be a father, we're going to be parents." Greg paused a moment to gauge Mycroft's reaction and to give it a moment to sink in. "Mum's promised she'll support us in any way we need, and I was thinking of selling the bike. You know, use the money to get supplies for the kid. Mum kept most of my things from when I was a baby, but some new things would be nice too, or I might use to get that flat I was looking at, you remember? It isn't much really, but I think it would be nice for the kid and us. Mycroft, are you listening?"_

_Mycroft stared away from them with a deep frown. Slowly he pulled his hands out of Greg's and stood up._

_Without another word, he turned and started for home once more._

_"Mycroft? Where are you going? Myc!"_

_This time he didn't turn back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Greg set the take-out dinner down on the kitchen table. One of these days he'd make that real home-cooked meal he'd been promising Oliver since the day he was old enough to walk. Greg looked out into the living room where the teen was camped out on the couch with his eyes glued to his phone. "Who are you texting?" Greg called over to him."

"Amy. We were thinking of hanging out this weekend."

"Hanging out?"

"Yeah." Oliver turned his head to look at his father. "Her dad will be there the whole time."

"Alright, hope you don't mind if I call to confirm that."

"Da-aa-ad!"

"You know the rules." Greg said. He dangled a taco container in front of his son's face as he sat down beside him.

Oliver took the food while muttering, "Doesn't mean I agree with them."

"Well tough." Greg sighed. "I put them in place because I care about you. I remember what being a teenager was like, and I have no desire for you to repeat my teenage years." 

Having heard this lecture a hundred times before, Oliver rolled his eyes. "I had no intention of getting Amy pregnant, Dad."

Greg snorted. "And you think I had any plan of getting pregnant at eighteen? Son, as much as I love you and am glad I have you, you weren't exactly something I was expecting. I was going to be a rockstar with an agent and a roadie named Bart before I had you."

"Yeah, yeah." Oliver replied, with a bite into his food. After a minute, Oliver began to fidget with his phone. "So since we're on the subject... I was wondering about my father-"

"Ollie," Greg ran a tired hand over his face. "I told you we'd talk about this later."

"It is later, Dad! That's why I'm bringing it up."

When Oliver was younger, he'd had a hard time accepting that their small family was different from other people's families. Greg had gotten called in for a conference with Oliver's teachers at least once a year since kindergarten because he would become very agitated whenever a unit on families came up, and couldn't understand why he only had one parent instead of two like everyone else. It wasn't until he was nearly twelve that the young Lestrade finally accepted that he wasn't going to get the stereotypical family unit he hoped for. Greg was worried how all this sudden drama with Mycroft was going to affect his son, and once again cursed the man for showing up out of the blue. 

"I understand why you want to meet him, Oliver. I do, but there's a reason he has stayed away for this long."

"Yeah I know, you said. He isn't a nice person, but it's been fifteen years. Don't you think there's any chance he might have changed in all that time?"

"No Ollie, I don't." Greg snapped before he could catch himself. He took a slow breath and shook his head. "Myc left us long before you were born, and now he's some big shot politician. Just like he always wanted to be. I don't know why he got in contact all of a sudden like that, but I do know that it can't be for anything good." Oliver slumped in his seat, and the conversation was over.

*

Work was a terror to focus on, the following morning. Greg's thoughts kept flying back to his son and his son's other father. Why couldn't Mycroft leave them alone? Why did he want to meet with Oliver now, after all these years? It wasn't like Greg had been living as a recluse. He was listed in the phone book for crying out loud! 

Donovan tapped on his door. "Sir, the junkie from the crime scene's back in holding. He's asking for you."

Greg groaned. "Damn it, Sherlock!" The detective stormed his way down to the holding cells to find Sherlock Holmes pacing back and forth around the small space, high as anything and mumbling nonsense. Greg leaned on the entrance door frame and waited to be noticed.

It was two more circuits before Sherlock's eyes landed on Greg. Sherlock lunged forward, reaching for the other man through the bars. "Lestrade! Lestrade, you have to let me out! There's a killer on the loose, I can find him!"

Greg crossed the room to the metal visitor chair under the careful watch of Sherlock. He sat down and glared at Sherlock, livid. "Why are you high again, Sherlock?" Sherlock huffed and returned to pacing. "Sherlock, I asked you a question."

Sherlock glanced at him. "Fatherhood suits you well I see, Lestrade."

Greg paled. "What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that you have a child. Teenager most likely judging by the tone and sharpness of your question. Male too, I'd say. You were the carrier of the child, unsurprising, though your last few attempts at a relationship have all been with women. So other father isn't in the picture..." 

Sherlock continued to prattle out deductions until Greg raised his hand to stop him. "I get it thanks. Well, since we have you here anyways, might as well put you to use. Tell me about this killer."

"Killer, torturer, kidnapper. Not in that order."

"Great. And he's managed to stay off our radar for this long. How'd you hear about him?"

"I have eyes and ears all throughout this town. The news of dangerous killers tends to spread faster through the underbelly of society than it does in mainstream."

"Right, do we have any physical description? Someone we can look for?"

"No."

"Of course not, that would be too easy." Greg crossed his arms. "Do we at least know his MO?"

"He's targeting women. No age, ethnicity, or social preference. He's taken four so far, two have turned up dead. The girl you pulled from the lake and the elderly woman found in the landfill." 

"What? Those two murders were about as different as they come, are you sure?"

"Yes of course I'm sure, I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't!"

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. "So basically any woman anywhere no matter what is in danger, he has no point of preference for how he kills and disposes of the victims, and there are currently two missing persons in immediate danger. Perfect, just what I need right now."

Sherlock peered at him through the bars. He scratched viciously at the crook of his arm where Greg had no doubt was the entry point for his drug addiction. "Is my brother still bothering you? Why? I don't understand why! No one will tell me why!" Sherlock began pacing the cell again as if the mystery of Mycroft and Greg was more important than the killer and missing victims.

Greg stood back up and started towards the exit. "You see Sherlock, this is why drugs are not good for you. You have all the facts you need to figure it out, but you just can't make the connections."

"What do you mean I have all the facts?"

Greg shut the door behind him and made a note to look into Sherlock's statements. 

Sherlock spent the rest of the evening stewing over what Greg said. It wasn't till near morning after he had come down, and was desperate to leave the station that pieces fell into place. 

"Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy and I'm still displeased with it. I may come on later today and tweak it a bit, but for now, enjoy!

_Mrs. Holmes frowned at the closed door of her eldest son's room. He's been in there since the night before, and she was beginning to worry. "Mycroft, darling?" She asked with a tap to his door. "Are you feeling alright? Should I tell Cook to send up some crackers and tea?"_

_"No, Mummy. I'm fine." Came Mycroft's quick response seconds later. "I just want to be alone for a bit."_

_Mrs. Holmes sighed. "Is this about that boy?"_

_"His name is Gregory, Mother."_

_"So it is about him."_

_"Mother..."_

_Mrs. Holmes smiled, but kept her voice consoling. "Oh darling, I know breakups aren't easy but you'll see in the long run this is for the best." Mycroft mumbled a reply. "What was that? Mycroft, if you're not going to let me in, at least speak up!"_

_"I said we haven't broken up."_

_"Then what is going on?" She asked, quickly losing patience with her son's cryptic behaviour. "Mycroft Larry Holmes, you are worrying me." She added when he didn't respond._

_There was a click of a lock being turned. Mycroft slowly emerged from the room, head bent and avoiding his mother's eyes. Within seconds, Mrs. Holmes had realized what was upsetting her son._

_"Oh, Mycroft."_

*

"Mycroft, open your damn door!" Sherlock shouted with a bang on his brother's door. It was under a minute before his housekeeper appeared, scowling down her nose at the dirty looking man in front of her.

"May I help you?"

"I want to speak with Mycroft, as you well know from me shouting. 'Mycroft, open your damn door!'"

" _Mr. Holmes_ is not in, but I'll gladly take a message for him."

"Fine. Tell him to meet me in the sitting room when he's through sulking in his study." Sherlock replied, easily sidling past the older woman.

_"You'll what?"_

Sherlock smirked at her before turning on his heel towards the room he promised to be in. Mycroft joined him a few minutes later with a scowl on his face.

"Sherlock why are you terrorizing my house staff? Why are you here at all?"

Sherlock tapped his lit cigarette into the crystal shot glass he was using as a makeshift ashtray, and looked up at his brother. "I got arrested again." He stated, matter of factly.

His brother scowled at him which Sherlock returned with a roll of his eyes, and prepared himself for an undeserved lecture. "Well then congratulations, Sherlock. For being the first Holmes in history to sully it's good name." Sherlock stood before his brother really got going and crossed his arms.

"I wasn't finished. I got arrested again, and spoke with Lestrade." That humbled his brother almost instantly. Sherlock chuckled at his brother's discomfort. "That's right, Mycroft. I know your secret." Mycroft's jaw clicked unhappily. "So tell me, brother dear, was the thought of being a baby daddy really that scary? We're you worried it would hurt your future career?"

"Sherlock. Stop." The politician replied quietly. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

*

_Mrs. Holmes looked around the decrepit little neighbourhood with her with a wrinkle of her nose. In her hands, the upper class woman clutched a white envelope addressed to Greg in her son's letter. She and he had stayed up late the night prior with his father. They'd discussed what was about to happen, and what would be best for Mycroft in consideration of his future as the next Holmes politician. Finally they'd come to an agreement and it was up to her to see it through. It would be better this way. She stepped up to the address she had been given and rang the buzzer labelled,_ Lestrade _._

_A few minutes later a young woman with a head of premature grey hair and wrinkles, appeared at the door. "May I help you?" She asked with a confused smile to beautifully posh woman on her stoop._

_"Mrs. Lestrade?" Mrs. Holmes gave a tense smile which quickly fell into a frown when the woman huffed out a laugh._

_"I'm sorry, I've just haven't been called Mrs. Lestrade in a few good years. Just call me Patty."_

  
_Mrs. Holmes hummed her furthering distaste. "Well, whatever your name is, I'm looking for your son. I have a letter for him here from my son, Mycroft."_

_"Myc.. oh." Patty touched her face as if only just aware of her squalid appearance. "You're Mycroft's mother, oh please, won't you come in?"_

_"Yes, perhaps that'd be best, we have some things to discuss, I think."_

_"Oh yes, I agree." Patty smiled. "We're about to become grandmums after all. GREG!" She stepped aside while they waited for Greg to reply to the summons. "Don't mind the mess, I wasn't expecting any, well visitors. Would you like tea? I doubt anything I have will be what you're used to."_

_"Anything you have is fine." She was sure it wasn't. Mrs. Holmes perched herself on the edge of a floral and ancient sofa that didn't match any of the rest of the small room's furniture._

_Greg came stomping down the stairs in his usual boyish manner. "You don't need to shout! I'm not de..." The expectant father's words trailed off when he saw who was waiting for him._

_Patty came bustling out with tea in their nicest mug. She smiled between her son and the upper class woman. "So!" She sighed politely. "You said there was somethings you wanted to discuss?"_

_Mrs. Holmes took the cup with a smile that was more grimace than anything. "Yes, what I'd like to discuss with you... it's simple really. I'd like you to stop seeing my son."_

_Patty's smile fell. Greg didn't look surprised. The young man crossed his arms, and surveyed her. "No." He replied simply. "Your son loves me, and we are going to have a child together whether you like it or not." Mrs. Holmes didn't argue. Those were indeed the facts. Instead of fighting back, the fair haired woman picked up her secret weapon and held it aloft for Greg to see._

_"It's from Mycroft, as you can see." She passed it over to Greg as Patty stared on in amazement. "He's asked me to deliver it, you'll find that he's asking you to respect the same wish I have just expressed."_

_Greg's eyes roved over the page. He could feel tears welling up with every word. He could have brushed them off as the hormones his mother had warned him he'd experience, but he didn't. Finally, he looked up at Mrs. Holmes, hurt and rage burning through his tears. "This is how he feels?" He said in a low voice._

_Mrs. Holmes nodded. "Every word is his own." The three fell silent momentarily while Greg reread over the words written in his boyfriend's writing. Finally, Mrs. Holmes pulled out another sheaf of paper. "Now, obviously I can't ask you to get rid of the baby, though I urge you to consider it, I can offer you some money. To help with expenses which you.... clearly need."_

_Patty flushed with indignation. "I have realised my boy with out aid for eighteen years. We don't need your_ help. _We don't have much, but we don't complain. Now please take your charity, and leave."_

_"Mum." Greg interrupted. "It isn't charity. It's to keep us quiet."_

_Mrs. Holmes smiled. "Perhaps I underestimated your intelligence Gregory. It is indeed. If you accept this money you're agreeing to never tell a living soul who the father of your child is, and to stay out of our lives from now on."_

_"We don't accept!" Patty cried. Mrs. Holmes wrote a number down on the paper, effectively ignoring her. The snooty woman slid the paper across to the pair. "No." Patty shook her head, refusing to even look._

_"I urge you to consider it." She leaned back against the sofa as if she owned the home, which in her mind, she probably believed she did._

_t was Greg who broke first. He picked the paper up and paled. "Mum-"_

_"No, Greg. We are not taking this horrible woman's money!" Patty squeaked when her son pushed the check under her nose, and she finally saw how much the horrible woman was offering them._

_Mrs. Holmes stood up, triumphantly. "Do really think this over. After all, you both have your futures to consider."_

*

Mycroft stared into the small fireplace as he sat down across from his brother. He was silent. Deep in thought over memories he'd long thought he'd buried.

"It was complicated."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Scuttles away*


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Greg closed his car door, in one hand he clutched a coffee and in the other he was juggling the case files he was expected to deal with that day. He'd barely reached his works front door when his path was blocked by Anderson and Donovan. The DI sighed. As much as the two were good at their jobs, Greg found he didn't like dealing with them before his morning coffee. "You two make better walls then doorways. Go find your desks, we have  a busy day."

Anderson held up a hand to stop his boss from getting any further. "There's a man in your office, sir. He's been in there all morning. We think he picked the lock to get in, and now he's refusing to leave."

Greg sighed. "Did he give a name?"

"Holmes, sir." It was Donovan who answered that time. She looked very put out. Sherlock and she had gotten off to a bad start, and it seemed the young woman was not quick to forgive and forget.

Greg groaned and stomped past his subordinates, without another word until he reached his office. "Sherlock, what the Hell do you think you're- Get out."

Mycroft Holmes glanced up at the DI from a chair by the window that he'd been lounging in. Any person, Holmes or not, could see the instantaneous change from Greg being annoyed to the full on shaking rage he was suddenly experiencing. "I only want to talk."

 "Yeah? Well you about fifteen years too late for that. Leave."

Mycroft crossed his legs with a sigh. "Gregory..." That was as far as he got before there was a knock at the door.

"Hey sorry-"

Greg spin around. In the doorway stood his son, the same son he'd been trying to keep Mycroft away from since the day Sherlock bloody Holmes stumbled back into his life. "Ollie, what the Hell are you doing here?"

Ollie took a step back from Greg. His father had never snapped at him like the way just had, not even when Ollie had been at his brattiest. "I.. um. I tried calling, but you weren't answering." He mumbled in explanation. "The blue folder you took off the table this morning was mine, I need it for class." 

Greg sighed, looking apologetic. He moved over to where he'd dropped the files on his desk and rifled through them for Oliver's. Ollie glanced into the room, smiling a bit awkwardly at the man  staring intensely at him. Greg finally grabbed the right folder and handed it to his son. "Now go or you'll be late."

"I could drive him." Mycroft spoke up.

"No."

"Greg-"

"I said no, Mycroft." Greg snapped, then flinched. 

Behind him, Oliver tensed. "Mycroft?" He echoed. "Mycroft.. Holmes?"

Greg turned towards his son. "Go wait for me at the car. I'll drive you."

"But Dad!"

"Go."

Oliver's shoulders slumped. He looked past his father to the man sitting behind him. The two stared at each other for a long minute, until Greg stepped between them with a stern look at his son. Ollie dropped his gaze before sidling out of the room.  Greg slowly refaced Mycroft with crossed arms and a glower that made most criminals confess their crimes in under a minute.

Mycroft returned the look with one just as fierce. "You have no right to keep us apart."

"I have every right to. I'm his father."

"As am I."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well if you want to see him then you go get a court order. Because that's the only way I'm letting you near him." Greg shouted. The DI turned on his heel, marching out of the office after his son.

The car ride had been a tense one. Greg watched his son slip inside his school before burying his face in his hands with a groan. He thought he was doing what was best for his son by keeping that man away from Oliver. The rumours he'd heard about Mycroft Holmes since he'd gotten back in contact where more than a bit alarming, but he was back and he was leaving. And now Oliver had seen the man, he was going to let it go easily. Greg sighed. He had no doubt that Mycroft would get a court order, if it came to that, and that he would fight it. But would it be worth putting Oliver through that? His son already wanted to meet the man, and keeping him away while fighting Mycroft in court would only serve to hurt the relationship he had with his son. He was proud of the close relationship he'd kept with his Oliver his entire life, the thought of harming it over anything was an unbearable thought for the DI. He sighed and knew there was only one thing he could do. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialled his office phone. Unsurprisingly the line was picked up. 

"We need to talk."

*

_Mycroft was pacing the main foyer when Mrs. Holmes returned that night. He was immediately beside his mother with a worried look in his eyes. "What did he say? Is he upset with me? Will he he meet with me, let me explain what happened?"_

_Mrs. Holmes gave her son a pitying look. "Oh Mycroft. I am_ so sorry. _I had to do something, and I'm not proud but I needed you to finally see the lies once and for all."_

_Mycroft's expression changed from worry, to confusion, to suspicion. "What did you do mother?"_

_His mother sighed and moved to sit on the nearby chesterfield, beckoning her son to do the same. She took his hand when he did and sighed with resignation. "When I arrived at the Lestrade's, I... offered them some money. In lieu of continuing that sham of a relationship."_

_Mycroft's eyes widened in shock. "Mummy, you had no right." The young Holmes sighed. "It doesn't matter if he took the money though. I imagine you proposed to pay them more than they've ever seen in their lives, but what my proposal is will be worth even more to him than money." Mycroft's hand slipped into his jacket's pocket and he pulled out a small blue velvet box._

_Mrs. Holmes' eyes mirrored her son's in shock. "Mycroft, you cannot be serious! Marriage? That's exactly what he wants, you're playing right into his hand. He'll marry you then take half your fortune in the divorce for himself." Mycroft eyed his mother uncertainly and she pushed on, feeling victory was near. "When I... when I made the offer, they refused. They asked for more. They even threatened to go to the media if we didn't pay. I showed what I could offer, and they took advantage." Mycroft scanned his mother's face for any sign of deciet, he found none. Mrs. Holmes watched as heartbreak crossed over her eldest son and she squeezed the hand still held in hers. "Oh my darling. Don't you see? He never really loved you."_

*

Greg tapped impatiently against the table of the tiny café he had agreed to meet Mycroft at. It reminded him of the one he used to work in as a teen, he wondered if Mycroft thought so too and if that was why the politician had chosen it. He didn't have long to wait before a sleek black car pulled up outside the shop and Mycroft emerged from it. The two sat quietly across from each other. This was the first time they'd been in each others company in over fifteen years that they weren't immediately sniping at each other. It was incredibly awkward. 

"You look well." Mycroft commented quietly. Greg balled his hand into a fist and didn't reply. Mycroft sighed at Greg's distant behaviour. "You asked me here to talk, and yet I'm doing all the speaking."

Greg glared. "Fine... look this isn't easy for me. If I had it my way you'd never have anything to do with my son, or us with you. But for whatever reason, Ollie wants to meet you. I can't deny him that."

The politician dropped his gaze. His heart rate had picked up, and his palms were sweating with excitement and nerves. Would he make a good impression? Would Oliver despise him the way Gregory clearly did? Nothing in Mycroft's life felt as life-shatteringly important as this meeting did. "When can I... how will this work?"

Greg watched the mixtures of emotions flicking over his ex-lover's face and felt a twinge of an emotion that had never really left him at the thought of Mycroft Holmes. For one wild second, Greg's hand slid over the table towards Mycroft's. Both men stared in breathless anticipation, unsure of how the next second would play out. Greg deflected his mad idea, instead grabbed the sugar for his tea. "I'll set everything up. You two can meet, maybe somewhere like here. It'll be... I can be there if you two want, I'd prefer it that way actually."

 

Mycroft crossed his arms and glowered at Greg over their tea. "Why? You can't even trust me to have tea in a public place with him?"

"In all honesty? No. I don't trust you. Why should I?"

Mycroft pulled his arms closer to himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Greg was his biggest weakness and to hear him say such things was like reliving that dreadful night all over again. "Was any of it real?"

Greg blinked then scowled at Mycroft. "You can't be serious. 'Was any of it real?' Christ. Well you'd know better than me wouldn't you? We're done here."

"Are we?"

Greg stood, throwing a note for the tea down with a seething air around him. "Yeah, lovely to see you again. Glad you had fun way back then. Hope it was bloody worth it."

"Yes and I'm glad you got your cash grab. Was going through labor worth the money?"

Greg slammed his mug down. He was shouting now, not caring  that the other patrons were staring. "How dare you throw that back in my face. How dare you! I was just a kid, terrified I wouldn't be able to support the child I was carrying!"

"And I was just a sixteen year old boy you fooled into loving you."

"Love me? Ha! Funny way of showing it. Did you ever think for even a second how that letter was going to affect me? Or were you really that selfish of a kid that it never crossed you mind?"

"Gregory, what are you-"

"I mean. God. You are a right bastard. I know you were a kid, I didn't expect it to be easy. But was that all I was worth to you? A single sheet of paper? It wasn't even double-sided!"

"Greg-or-y!" The shop gave a collective jump as Mycroft's metal chair clattered to the floor. Mycroft took a deep breath with a wide-eyed stare at Greg. "What letter?"

*

_Mrs. Holmes closed the door to her private study, unsurprised to find it already occupied.  She smiled at her husband as she placed her outer wear on the antiquated coat hanger. "Well, he took the money."_

_Mr. Holmes nodded. "And the letter?"_

_"Took it, and believed it. Just as I told you he would."_

_Mr. Holmes nodded again then sat down against her desk. "Violet.. is this right?" His eyes filled with guilt  at what he was taking from his son. "Don't they deserve to find they're own way? We shouldn't be interfering like this, Vi."_

_Mrs. Holmes crossed her arms. "I know what's right for our son. He isn't ready to be a father. Forging that letter was the right choice. You agreed."_

_Mr. Holmes gave a reluctant nod. It was for Mycroft's best interest._


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this from my phone with my works wifi and am having silly issues with it, so this chapter will be having a face-lift when I get home, but for now...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also, let's not talk about how long this chapter took. Okay? Okay.

_To Gregory,_

_Thank you for our time together. The last few months have been an interesting and enjoyable break from the usual routine. As it is, like all breaks, it must now come to an end. With my life currently at such a crucial standpoint, taking on you and your unborn child would not be in my best interests. I know you understand that my future career can not succeed if I am being weighed down by a child born out of wedlock during my teenage years, and I urge you to accept the offer my mother will be making. I hope you enjoyed our time together and I wish you all the best in your future endeavours, for you and your child._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes._

*

"So how are classes going?"

"They're good. They're.. uh, very good."

"Good, good. What is it you're taking again?"

It had been three weeks since the revelation of the letter had come to light. As soon as Mycroft had read it, had promptly seen it burned.  The two men had sat side-by-side watching the lies that had kept them apart burn in front of them. In the end, after many, 'Too much time has passed,' and, 'We're different people now's,'  the two had decided not to persue another relationship. Of course, the one difference was that Mycroft had finally been granted visiting rights with Oliver. They met every few days for tea in the politicians office and by now, Mycroft was certain he knew Oliver's schedule better than he did.

There was an pause between the two as they both worked hard to come up with a conversation piece that began to stretch into awkward. Oliver rechecked the time on his phone and quietly wondered how much longer it would till his father arrived. Mycroft watched it happen and felt his stomach drop in disappointment. He knew he wasn't the most interesting of adults, but shouldn't he at least be able to keep his own son entertained? "So what are your plans after school? University?" 

Mycroft's assistant, Anita, appeared at the door and Oliver was never more thankful to see another human being. "Sir? Inspector Lestrade is here to collect his son." Oliver lunged for his knapsack, thanked Mycroft for the tea amd quickly hurried out the door.

Mycroft closed his eyes as soon as he had fled and groaned. "What exactly am I doing wrong?" He mumbled with a lost look at his assistant. She didn't like that foreign look on his face one bit. A dangerous look crossed her face as plans began to form inside her mind.

Outside, Greg was idling on the street corner. He smiled at his son as he climbed in. "So? Have a good time?"

Oliver was silent while he buckled himself in. "Yeah.. I mean.. yeah. It was... you know?"

"Of course I know, seeing as that was a very thorough and clear explanation." Greg raised an eyebrow at his fidgeting son. "What's wrong?"

"He's just... I don't know." Oliver mumbled. He fiddled with his seatbelt and refused to meet his father's eyes.

"Are you saying you don't want to keep visiting" A shrug. If they had been having the same discussion a month ago, Greg would have been over the moon. Now, he was a bit disappointed. Not only because he wanted Oliver to have a chance at having a good relationship with both his fathers, but also because his son was now his one remaining link to his former lover. Even though the two were no longer together, Greg was hoping that maybe someday soon they'd be able to become friends of some kind. He would never get the chance if Oliver severed the contact. "It's a big decision, Ollie. You know I'll stand behind whatever you decide to do, but just be sure it's really the decision you want to make." His son nodded and Greg let the subject drop. He started the car then pulled away from the office, completely unaware that one noisy PA was watching them the entire time.

 

*

  
Meanwhile, in a different part of town, Sherlock Holmes was making bad decisions.

  
After his meeting with Mycroft, Sherlock's apartment had been raided and throughly swept for all his drugs and his family funding was immediately severed. He had then spent the last few weeks desperately trying to save enough money to afford his addiction, including moving into a less posh flat and giving up not just dinner but lunch as well. They were useless meals anyways. 

  
Now, inside his desolate little flat, Sherlock was spread out on his sofa, idly rolling a needle beneath his hand, and pondering if it was worth it to get high just quite yet, when his phone pinged an incoming text. He raised an eyebrow, no one called him anymore, he honestly thought the phone had stopped working. Out of curiosity he picked iy up and read the new message.

_Something must be done about your brother, Mr. Holmes. A_

Sherlock sighed. The Holmes boy's sibling rivalry was widely known and every now and then, some person would get it into their mind that Mycroft's junkie younger brother would be a viable candidate for fulfilling their dark schemes.

_Sorry assassination isn't my specialty. SH_

There was a short pause before the next message arrived.

_Not something like that I'm afraid. I'm his assistant, Anastasia. You're aware of the situation with Inspector Lestrade and their son? A_

_Rings a bell, yes. SH_

_Then you should know that things are not well between the boy and Mycroft. A_

_Shame. SH_

_Mr. Holmes, I'm concerned about your brother. A_

_Well what do you want me to do about it? My brother's happiness is hardly my concern. SH_

_I can make it worth your while. A_

_Doubtful you're my type, sorry. SH_

_I can get you access to any crime scene and evidence you want. Without having to go through the proper channels or taking any tests. A_

_The legality of that might be questioned. SH_

_We'll give it a title. No one questions things with job titles. A_  
 _I'm working on a plan that should help, but I need your assistance. A_

_What is your master plan then? SH_

_I think it's best we talk in person. A_

Sherlock tutted and rolled his eyes at the request. It was just like Mycroft to hire someone mysterious. And they said he was the dramatic one in the family.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes nose out from behind chair.* Hello. Me again, I haven't given up on this story yet, I promise. New chapters might be slower but they will come.

"You know this plan is doomed to failure right?"

 

"Are all Holmes men this pessimistic or are you and your brother the exception?"

 

It was night time, two figures sat huddled in a part of a forested park that not even the late evening joggers seemed particular to. Mycroft's assistant, Angela, had sworn none of Mycroft's cameras could see to where they were. Sherlock was pleased by this little tip and had agreed to meet her there. He hadn't known what to expect by her, but even then, he was still shocked by her plan. Sherlock crossed his arms and gave the girl his most stubborn of expressions. Which was quite stubborn, in his opinion. "We're not pessimistic, we're realistic. Your plan will never work." 

 

Angela turned to the youngest Holmes and shot him a glare without ever raising her eyes from her phone. This wasn't her first dealing with a Holmes and she knew how to handle them. Be blunt and stick to your guns. "My plans don't fail." 

 

Sherlock sighed. The conversation was quickly growing as tiresome as it was futile, clearly her idiotic mind was made up. Sherlock was involved now and he had to at least make an effort of stopping the plot. He reached into his coat's tattered pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "First time for everything." He mumbled, for a moment his face lit up with the small flame of the lighter, and Angela was able to see the way he was resolutely ignoring the cross scowl shot his way. "What you're asking from me is more than I'm willing to do for what I'm getting in return." This time, Angela did look up from her phone. The glare was enough to make the young man fidget in his seat.

 

"Give it up, Sherlock." The assistant sighed. "I'm not going to offer you drugs, or money  _for_  drugs."

 

"Oh why not? " Sherlock sulked. He had been lobbying for a raise in payment since he heard Angela's plan, and really. A bit of drug money didn't seem like that much to ask for what she wanted.

 

For Angela, the reason for denying Sherlock was a simple one and she made sure to tell him as such. "In Mycroft's eyes, enabling your drug habit is a good cause for termination." She replied.

 

Sherlock snorted. "And what, staging a fake kidnapping of his son isn't? Really now, even Mycroft's priorities aren't that skewed." 

 

Angela rolled her eyes and snapped her phone shut before standing. "Just follow the plan, Sherlock, and we won't run into any problems. Mr. Holmes is set to retrieve his son from his school at four PM tomorrow afternoon." She studied the man with observant eyes. "All you have to do is distract your brother long enough for the boy to be taken. It's safe, the men involved are trustworthy and discrete. It's foolproof."

 

Sherlock shook his head. "No foolproof plan is truly foolproof." The youngest Holmes stood up, he dropped his still lit smoke and ground it beneath his heel. With a sigh, Sherlock looked at the woman still sitting on the bench. All her dirty secrets were hidden behind a cool outer expression that had been trained by Mycroft Holmes himself. It took away any of his chances of unsettling her into compliance and left him with only one less entertaining choice.   "Oliver Lestrade and his father may very be the only humans in life whom my brother feels any true love for. If harm comes to either one. The consequences would be dire."

 

Sherlock would never admit it, not even to himself, but Angela could tell; Sherlock cared about his brother's well-being. He didn't want Mycroft to be hurt anymore than he had been, perhaps he even missed being close to his brother like she knew they had once been. "I care about him too, Sherlock. Trust that I know what I'm doing."

 

*

 

The day following Sherlock and Angela's rendezvous found Mycroft locked away in his study, working on a top-priority project. The only thing that was able to draw his attention away from the priority-one project, was the sound of his doorbell ringing. Mycroft groaned in response. There were only two types of people whoever bothered visiting his home; family, and killers.

 

"Unless that's an assassin with a warrant for my death, do kindly tell them to bugger off." Mycroft called to his housekeeper as she passed by his study. The elderly woman nodded once before walking out of sight once more, leaving Mycroft to ponder whether or not it was time to update the security systems on his home.  Mycroft looked up when his housekeeper reappeared in the doorway with the worst sort of news a person could imagine. "Your mother is here to see you, sir." 

 

Mycroft shut his eyes and let out a low breath. Definitely time for more security protocols. "Has she come with a warrant for my death?"

 

"I may very well have." The politician cringed at the sound of his mother's sharp voice. Mrs. Holmes stepped into view, looking more disgruntled than her son had ever seen her. "I have been trying to reach for the past several weeks, you've returned none of my calls, and you've missed two Sunday dinners. Frankly, Mycroft, I am at my wits end over this sudden behaviour."

 

Mycroft scowled back at her which, of course, did nothing to deter his mother's own fierce scowl. Ever since his parents betrayal had come to light, their eldest son had been carefully avoiding all contact with them as he considered how he was going to approach the situation, and his parents. He had prepared a fierce speech, several in fact, but in that second, facing his mother's angered expression. Mycroft Holmes, the silver-tongued politician, was drawing a blank. "Mother... when a person says they are busy and don't want to be disturbed for any reason, that generally means-"

 

"Oh Mycroft, don't give me that, I can _see_ CandyCrush on your computer. Now, I will not be brushed off so rudely. I am your mother and I expect you to respect me as such." The snobbish woman held her head high as she ignored her son's continuing glare, and she strode through the study's doorway.

 

Moving smoothly into his mother's path, Mycroft rolled his eyes. "As the saying goes, respect must be earned, not given." 

 

His mother narrowed her eyes at that. She wasn't at all used to her son's challenging her. Not even bull-headed Sherlock dared to cross her, at least, not like this. "I birthed you, child, I think that deserves some small fraction of your respect."

 

It was getting harder for Mycroft to control his rising temper. This sort of attitude from his mother had been one Mycroft had been dealing with his whole life and until recently, he had always conceded to it. She was his mother, he had been raised to believe she had his best interests in mind. He now knew better. "That would have given you the respect you so desperately seek, Mother, had you not then spent the rest of my life attempting to ruin it."

 

"I beg your pardon?" Mycroft finally saw where Sherlock got his firey temper as he watched his mother's eyes flare with insult and rage. "Your father and I gave you everything you ever wanted in life, Mycroft Holmes. How dare you speak otherwise."

 

"No, mother. You gave me everything I needed in life to gain what _you_ wanted in life." Came Mycroft's instant and furious rebuttal. "My wants, my well-being, they never came into play for you." He mumbled quietly. Mycroft was hurting in unfathomable ways, knowing just by looking at his mother that he was right. "I've been a nothing but a pawn for you my whole life."

 

His mother stared at him looking, possibly for the first time in her life, guilty. Mycroft decided it was a look that suited her just perfectly. Unfortunately for him, the added time of staring each other down in silence gave his mother ample time to observe her eldest son. What she saw there, made the woman scowl in disgust. "This is about that boy again. Why do you care so much about him and his... his bastard child?"

 

Mycroft's nostrils flared. When he spoke again he did so in an clipped and practiced tone. One he saved for uncooperative ambassadors. "That  _bastard_  child, is my son. And thanks to you and Father, I lost out on getting to witness him growing up, or ever having any sort of meaningful relationship with him. And I'll like you to know, his name is Oliver."

 

Mrs. Holmes crossed, and uncrossed her arms. Her expression was becoming so pinched, Mycroft began to fear veins would burst if she kept it up. "You're in contact with them." It hadn't been a question, and Mycroft saw no reason to lie.

 

"I am." 

 

Even though it was the response his mother had expected, it still seemed to be the wrong one. Mrs. Holmes sniffed loudly as she pulled herself up to her full height then glared up at her son. "My choice to separate you from that boy I made to protect you," She snipped back, "Don't expect me to apologize for that."

 

Mycroft looked back at her, unblinking. He had finally reached the end of his tether with his mother. Every word she spoke sounded like another feeble lie and he refused to listen for another second. "I don't expect you to apologize. I expect you to leave." Mycroft moved towards her. If he had to forcibly remove his mother then... so be it.

 

But Mrs. Holmes would not be so easily removed. His mother stared at him, clearly choosing her next words carefully. "Mycroft," She started slowly, "If you are actually thinking of choosing them over your family-"

 

"Gregory is my family, Mother. He always has been." Mycroft interjected. His expression became one of pity as he looked over his mother. Now that the veil had been lifted, all he saw in his mother was a power-hungry and desperate woman who, even then, felt no real remorse for her terrible actions. Mycroft really and truly did pity her. "I'm just sorry you couldn't see that."

 

Mycroft took another step towards her, but his mother was quick to raise her manicured hand, stopping the man in his tracks. "Mycroft, I'm warning you. If you do this then... then you'll be cut from the family." There. Mrs. Holmes could see it then. The flicker of fear in her son. She just had to push a bit harder and life would return to normal. "You know I mean it, Mycroft."

 

Mycroft swallowed. His whole life, the only people he had believed he could rely on, was his family. To lose them all... The decision should have been hard, it really should have been but standing there, studying his mother, the choice was clear to him.

 

"Goodbye, Mother."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly a wild new chapter appears
> 
> Enjoy!

_The room was dim. Soft breaths tickled the hairs on the back of Greg's neck. He could feel strong, familiar arms wrapped protectively around him protectively. He felt safe, more so than he had in years. The world around him began changed, and Oliver was a newborn again. Greg cradled him against his chest while Mycroft petted the new father's hair, whispering words of how beautiful both of them were. Another shift and Oliver was five. They were walking through a park, one of the young boys hands was held safely in Greg's hand and the other in Mycroft's. All three of them were laughing from a joke, though Greg couldn't remember what it was. One final change of scenery. Greg was back in the bedroom. The voice, one he knew so well, was saying words of the truest love. Greg knew he could believe every word of it. The feeling of security and peaceful love was so great it caused his eyelids to begin to close._

When they opened again, Greg was still lying on his bed, but this time he was alone. Greg shut his eyes, trying in vain to recapture the wonderful dream. Eventually, Greg was forced to come to terms with the fact that the dream was lost and he had to get up or be late for work. He was halfway out of the apartment when a figure with an umbrella stepped right into his path. Greg skidded to a halt seconds before they collided. "Mycroft!" He exclaimed in surprise, "What in the world are you doing here?"

The politician froze in his tracks. In his hand was a hand written note asking Greg to dinner, he hadn't planned on actually talking to the detective until, or if, he received a reply. 'I... Well I was in the neighbourhood..."

"If you're looking for Ollie, he left for class a half hour ago."

Mycroft nodded and shifted from foot-to-foot. It was ridiculous, he was a  _grown_   _man_! A grown man with power and respect. How was it that Gregory Lestrade  was able to make him feel as if he were still a shy sixteen year old just by looking at him? He blinked down at the note then up at Greg. "I, um, I actually came to see you."

Greg blinked in surprise. Since they had gotten back into contact, it had always been Greg who had to call and set up times for Oliver to visit his father. The only time they ever saw each other was with their son present and the meetings were never anything more than the obligatory small talk between two people who were once close.  For Mycroft to reach out to him like this meant something major must have happened. "Oh," He gave the man a small uncertain smile, "Alright. Did you want to come in for a bit? I was just on my way to work."

"No, no. I can't stay long. I just.. I had a visit from my mother this morning and I realized, we need to talk."

Greg couldn't help himself. He saw red at the mention of Mycroft's mother. "Oh yeah? What she convince toy of this time? I swear to God, Mycroft, if you're here to tell me you don't want to see our son anymore, then you can bloody well tell him yourself. I refuse to be the one who delivers that news."

Mycroft held up his hands as if to placate the other man. "No, that's not what happened. Mostly I'm just here to apologize for ever listening to that woman in the first place." Mycroft tucked the small letter into his jacket then narrowed his eyes as he contemplated just what he needed to say next. "I'm also here to.. to invite you to dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes," Mycroft continued to frown, "Yes dinner. I think we should.. have dinner together. Because.. because I miss you. I have missed you since the day you left my life and I think it's time you and I gave what we had another try." Mycroft said all of this to his shoes, when he chanced a glance up at Greg, disappointment filled him to see the man frowning back at him with eyes that held none of the same sentiment. "It's just.. it's just.. I have never loved another person the way I loved you, and I understand, in fact I fully expect you not to share that feeling, but.. I need, I want one more chance to be the person you loved."

Greg listened to the declaration without ever making an attempt to interrupt.  A large part of him was certain he was still asleep, because there was no way Mycroft could really be there saying everything he had ever hoped he would say. The detective reached out and slid his hand into Mycroft's. The both stared in wonder at how their hands still seemed to fit so perfectly together. "I think," He started. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. They would have a lot to work through. "I think we should try it." The look on Mycroft's face was enough to erase an doubt he had about his decision being a bad one. "We'll need to take it slow. We're not the same people we were once. And I'd love to just fall back in love with you, I really would, but... we need to relearn each other." Mycroft's face fell a bit, but after a moment he nodded in agreement. 

"Yes, slow would probably be best. We can start with dinner." They smiled at each other, cheeks heated with anticipation for the time they would be spending together. Greg released Mycroft's hand. Slow really was for the best. 

*

An hour later and the two men were lying together on top of Greg's bed. The room was heady with the smell of sex and both of the pair were happy to lie together for the whole day. Mycroft ran his fingers through Greg's soft hair, neither one spoke as they stared into the others eyes. It wasn't until Mycroft's phoned pinged that they remembered there was a world outside the room. Greg was not at all ready for Mycroft to move away, even as the man sighed and began to shift. The detective slowly loosened his hold on Mycroft's waist, allowing his to turn and hunt around for his mobile. 

"It's my office." Mycroft sighed again. "They want me to come in." He peered over his shoulder at Greg with a look of pure despair. He didn't want to leave Greg for a minute, but his work was too important to leave even for a day.  "I am sorry, I really should.."

"No, it's fine," Greg said, giving him his best reassuring smile. "I need to get into my office any ways. Well first I need to think up an excuse for why I'm so late." He gave Mycroft a sheepish smile, causing the other man to lean forward and kiss the expression. When they pulled away, two more messages had been sent asking for confirmation about his safety. Eventually, the politician did make it to his workplace. As he walked through the corridors, he whistled loudly and greeted every person he saw. His assistant frowned when he entered with a hearty, "Good afternoon, my dear!" Before he continued onwards to his private office. 

Sensing a future problem, Annabelle followed her boss into the building , clicking away on her phone the whole time. "Is everything alright, sir?" She pocketed her phone, feeling this situation might be in need of her full attention. Her boss looked up at here with twinkling eyes and  a smile that stretched over his whole face. 

"Nothing has ever been better." His expression was so honest, it made Annabelle's concern grow, and it disappointed her to know she would be the cause of him losing the happy expression with her plans for his son  later that day. In truth, Annabelle's curiosity about her bosses new-found happiness was too much to ignore.

"Is there any particular reason for this, sir?" The assistant asked with a casual tone as she watched her boss flip through a folder with the latest reports from the US. He hummed softly while he made notes then looked back up at her, still smiling his chipper smile.

"Gregory and I are, ehm, we're going to try and work things out, so to speak." If it was possible, Mycroft's expression got happier and as he turned his attention back to the reports, he began to whistle again. Annabelle watched all of this with a froze pleased expression, her fingers fumbling for her phone as she tried to casually pull it back out of her pocket.  _A_ _bort mission. I repeat, abort mission. A_

Annabelle gave him a tight smile once she had fired off the text. "Oh." It was time for her to make a hasty retreat back to her desk and pretend there was nothing wrong, but as she turned to leave, she caught Mycroft's eye who was watching her with complete suspicion. 

"Is something wrong?" He asked. His assistant smiled back at him and shook her head before glancing down at the new message on her phone.  _What are you talking about? SH_

_I'm calling off the plan. M and G sorted things out themselves. A_

_Why are you telling me? The men came and got Oliver an hour ago. SH_

The message made Annabelle's blood run cold. The men she had hired were down in the lobby of the building, waiting for her go sign. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Something on her face must have  clued Mycroft to his PA's unease. She never kept secrets from her boss and she was not the type to take personal calls while working. Whatever she was reading on her phone would not bode well for anyone.   _They haven't left yet. A_

_Yes they have, I saw them take him with my own eyes. SH_

"Annabelle?"

"Everything's perfectly fine, sir." Annabelle replied. She needed to fix the situation, and she needed to do it fast. "Really. Just a misunderstanding, I'm sure." Mycroft was approaching her and didn't look at all convinced by her reassurances.  _Sherlock, they didn't. A_

The pause between the last message was long. Annabelle had began to back away from her boss who was still moving towards her, his happy expression had quickly disappeared and was being overwritten by concern and the need to know what was happening. 

_We have a problem. SH_

"Annabelle. What's happened?"


	10. Chapter Ten

After Mycroft's PA had gotten the messages from the younger Holmes, the who story had tumbled out about what their plans had been in their attempts to save his and Greg's relationship. Sherlock was brought into the office and with his help, the search for the actual kidnappers began. There was so much Mycroft wanted to shout at the pair, but it had to wait. Someone had taken Oliver and when the politician got his hands on them, they would suffer. With Sherlock's helpfully detailed descriptions of the kidnappers and their vehicle, the search was short and soon enough the car was being tracked. 

Mycroft loaded the tracking information onto his laptop. He didn't wait for backup of any kind before he rushed down into the private lot of cars he kept in the basement of the offices. He climbed into the first car he saw, knowing time was of the essence. Of course, his exit was delayed when the passenger cardoor opened, depositing a dark-haired body in beside the frenzied man. "Where do you think you're going?" Mycroft snapped at his younger brother.

"I'm coming with you." Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who impatiently rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, right now if you go in alone, you're liable to get yourself and Oliver killed. Let me help." Mycroft glared, but there was no time to argue. He raced the vehicle out of the car park as Sherlock located his seatbelt. 

They tracked the car down to an abandoned warehouse not far from the Thames. Through an opening, the brother's could see Oliver being held by two men. One held a gun and seemed to be taking orders from the second man, who was shorter but had an air of authority to him. The pair and Oliver appeared to be waiting for new transportation, their own sat dismantled and unidentifiable by the opening Sherlock and Mycroft were spying through. Oliver looked terrified. He was seated at a small table, hishands in handcuffs. The boy said something quietly, that earned him a harsh smack across the face. Mycroft surged forward even as Sherlock tried to hold him back.

The party inside all looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, the leader's face broke out into a gleeful expression as he sighted the brothers. "Well, well, well. Look at that. Umbrella man and his curly-haired sidekick. The old bat said you might show up." He stepped in front of Oliver with the same villainous look. "Come to save the day."

Mycroft frowned. He didn't know how much the man's employer had told him, but it was still possible that he would be able to talk all three of them out of the situation and deliver Oliver safely back to Greg. "What are you talking about?"

The man pointed his finger at Mycroft's son with a triumphant look. "She said you'd come to rescue Junior here. I didn't believe her, but here you are."

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid you were misinformed." A flash of uncertainty crossed both kidnappers face's, while Oliver stared at the politician with confusion and fear. "I was simply told that if I came here, at this time, I would find two dangerous criminals in the midst of a kidnapping."

"But she said-"

"Face it," Sherlock joined in as he caught on to his brother's plan. "Your employer set you up."

"But the boy-"

Mycroft let out an impatient noise. There was no way for him to reassure his son without giving away his game. "I have never seen that boy before in my life." He glanced at Oliver, training his to look as if they were seeing a stranger for the first time.

Suddenly the leader's eyes grew cold. He wasn't going to be arrested for a job he never wanted to take in the first place. If this was a set up then he was at least going to make it worthwhile. "Oh? He means nothing to you?" There was no mercy, no bluff in the man'sdark eyes when he turned towards his companion. "Shoot him in the head."

"No!" Both Mycroft and Sherlock's cried out, Mycroft's eyes wide with fear. The kidnapper leered at them with the look of a predator who had cornered his prey. He held up a hand to his companion who already had his gun aimed at Oliver. "Changing your tune already?" The brothers both glared. "Thought you might. Can't let anything bad happen to sonny boy here, can you?" The killer rifled Oliver's hair, making the boy cringe. 

Mycroft looked away with a huff. "Fine," He snapped before he regained control of himself, "Alright," He continued at a calmer pace, "But you still must let the boy go. This is a quarrel between myself and your employer. The boy is simply a pawn that should not have been used."

"Is that so?" The man stared down at Oliver, chuckling. Whoever the boy was, he was clearly important. They might be able to get a better price for him than what their employer was offering if they could get away from their unexpected visitors. "Sorry. We have our orders. We're to deliver the boy to the drop-off zone. He's being sent somewhere where he'll be of better use. Pretty boy like him, we can't waste that potential."

"Whatever she's paying you, I'll double."

"She said you might say that. Said whatever offer you make, she'll triple. So go ahead," He grinned, "Make me an offer I can't refuse." 

Mycroft growled. He took a step towards the men with death in his eyes and the gun was instantly pressed back up against Oliver's skull.

"Mycroft." Sherlock hissed. His hand closed around his brother's bicep, holding him in place. "We need to let them take him."

Mycroft snapped his head to the side, he stared at his brother as if he had grown an extra head. "Have you lost your  _mind_?"

Under the careful watch of the killers, Sherlock shifted closer to Mycroft and lowered his voice. "I have eyes and ears all over the city, as do you. There's nowhere they can go without us knowing. If we let them go now, we can follow them to their final destination and nail them there. It will be safer. This situation is too explosive. Oliver could get hurt. Just trust me for once."

Mycroft took all of Sherlock's words into consideration and hated that his brother was right. Here there were too many variables. Too many things Mycroft couldn't control. If they allowed the men to go, he'd have time to formulate a plan and rescue his son without any risk to the boy's life.

"Fine," Mycroft sighed, turning his attention back on the kidnappers. "Take him and go, but do make sure to tell your employer, I know who they are and we  _will_  be having words."

The men grinned, pleased to be getting away. The leader gave Mycroft an exaggerated saluted before hauling Oliver to his feet. As they started to pull Oliver towards the exit, the boy began to panic. He met Mycroft's eyes with his own fear filled ones.

The boy stumbled across the uneven floor as he tried to move towards the politican instead of the doorway. His kidnapper gave him a harsh push, making the boy cry out. "Dad!" Oliver looked once more towards Mycroft. "Please."

Mycroft's heart stuttered. That single word made up Mycroft's mind. The men were not going to take another step with his son so long as he was breathing.  Before Sherlock could react and stop him again, Mycroft rushed forward and slammed himself into the man holding the gun. It was a wrestle for the weapon, both men desperately trying to get control. Sherlock joined in the struggle while the man's partner screamed above them. A hand succeeded in closing around the small gun, everone's eyes going wide.

BANG!

Across the town, Sally Donovan rushed into her boss's office. "Sir! There's been a shooting at the docks. One casualty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm going to join Cliffhangers Addicts Anonymous one of these days.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who stuck around this last year just for my silly story and to all those who left comments, kudos, and bookmarks. Also a very special thank you to my own lovely Mycroft who read through this final chapter for me and made it better than it would have been had I been on my own. Your help is always appreciated, darling.

Greg sat hunched next to his son's still body. The only sign he had that his son was still alive at all were the quiet hums and beeps of the machines hooked to him. Hours of surgery had left Greg exhausted with worry.

  
It had been chaos when the DI had arrived on scene. Police were everywhere, shouting orders to each other while two stretchers were pulled out of a nearby warehouse. The first carried a pale boy, covered in his own blood. Greg hit the ground running the moment he realized who the boy was."Oliver!" He had to elbow his way through the countless paramedics, the panic and confusion clear in his voice. Greg barely registered when someone shouted about a gunshot wound, or that the second stretched carried the limp and mangled body of a scruffy looking man. It wasn't until he was seated in the ambulance next to Oliver that he noticed another man being led out in handcuffs while Mycroft Holmes followed behind. Greg's face blanched of all colour as he stared. Mycroft turned to look at the ambulance, his expression filling with guilt when he caught Greg's eye. 

Now, as he sat in the silence, Greg could hear the squeak of expensive shoes approaching the room. It pulled him from his thoughts and made the detective tense in anger. "I thought I told them not to let you in." Greg said without looking up. His voice was stiff from the anger and exhaustion the last several hours had put him through. All he wanted was to keep his son out of harm's way, not have it come knocking at his door.

Mycroft stood in the doorway. The cold hostility coming from the other man kept him from venturing further into the room. "I persuaded them otherwise." He replied. The politician glanced past Greg for a single moment to Oliver. He had been struck in the chest by the bullet. No one had expected him to live through surgery, but Oliver had proved them all wrong and survived. When he had, the doctor's changed their diagnosis to being that Oliver would never again wake up. Mycroft could only hope they were proven wrong once more. "I only wanted to see how he was."

"And now you have." Greg replied. He closed his hand around Oliver's. His boy looked so small in the big bed. He was too still and too quiet. It was all Greg could think. Oliver was never this still. Even when he was asleep, he had always twisted and turned, but now the only movement coming from him was the steady rise and fall of his chest, and even that was assisted.

  
"I don't know what happened today," Greg didn't dare look at the other man out of fear of what he'd see; he'd been on his own with his thoughts for hours and he knew what had to be done. No matter how it would hurt them both. "But I.. I do know you were involved," He continued, "And I don't think.. I can't have Ollie mixed up in whatever it is that's going on in your life. Not if it means... this."

The politician froze. "I.. what are you saying?" Mycroft whispered, horrified. When the shot had been fired, Mycroft had lost all control. He dislocated the kidnapper's hand, then proceeded to pummel every inch of the man he could get at, using any thing he could grab. His brother had rushed to Oliver's aid and had showed no desire to intervene. It was only when the police had pulled him away that he finally realized what he'd done. 

  
"I didn't expect this to happen, Gregory. This was never supposed to happen."

"My son was shot. Because of you, Mycroft. He's probably going to.." Greg bit his lip and closed his eyes, breathing hard. "Please. Can you just leave? Can you just go? I don't want you near him anymore. Ever."

"Greg-"

  
" _Go_."

A single word and his world was shattered. Mycroft stared at the man he loved. The heart that he wasn't meant to have, was breaking in a way that Mycroft had never dreamed could be so painful. Without saying another word he drank in his final look at Greg and their son then turned and fled the room. 

In the hall waiting for Mycroft was his assistant and his brother. Annabelle opened her mouth, but Mycroft silenced her with a single raised finger. "It would be in your best interest, Miss Smith, to not speak at this moment."

His assistant closed her mouth, and she nodded with her eyes focused on the ground. Mycroft moved past her to his brother. "Please pass on a message to our mother," He started, "If she ever tries to harm Oliver Lestrade or anyone remotely in associated with him again, I will personally see to her complete relocation, and I will do it with the greatest of pleasure."

His brother raised a curious eyebrow then gave him a single nod. The message would be delivered. Mycroft silently thanked him for not yet asking the questions he was sure were yet to come. 

*

It took three days for Oliver to open his eyes. Three days in which Greg barely left his spot at his side for longer than a minute. A cot was pulled in for him, but Greg simply clasped his son's hand tighter. By the third day, the doctors and nurses were worrying for him. They would bring him food and drinks from the cafeteria, even Sherlock showed up with a roll of his eyes and a demand for Greg to eat. It had been relief to everyone when Oliver began to show signs of consciousness. 

As the process for bringing Oliver back to consciousness began, Greg was never far away. He sat close when his eyes opened and finally managed to focus on his father, Greg was beaming in relief. He pressed a kiss to Oliver's forehead, smoothing down his son's unruly bed-hair with a trembling hand. "Welcome back, Ollie."  He whispered.

Oliver stared at him with drowsy eyes then shift his gaze through the room, his face contorting with confusion. "Where's Dad?" His croaked. His voice was dry from lack of use, Greg poured him some water but Oliver pushed it away as he tried to sit up. Greg easily stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  
"I'm right here, Ollie." Greg murmured, fear bubbling through him. Had Oliver's mind been affected? Did he not recognize him? Helplessly, Greg looked to the doctor and nurses who stood near the end of his son's bed for an explanation, but all they could do was mirror the concern he, himself was feeling.

Finally, it was Oliver's huff of irritation that made Greg turn his attention back to his son. "No," There was a hint of desperation in the boy's croaky voice, " _Mycroft_. Where's _Mycroft_?" 

  
In surprise, Greg shook his head. "Mycroft's not here, Ollie." He frowned and began to tuck his son back into his blankets. Though he had questions, he knew they would have to wait until later. "Please, just lie still alright? Don't worry about him." Oliver had only just woken up. There was no reason to upset him with questions that could wait. Mycroft was out of their lives. In time, Oliver would understand that it was for the best.

*

As time passed, Mycroft never gave himself any time to think about the family he had lost. He spent most days and nights at his office, submersing himself in his work. He told himself it was because he was busy, he nearly believed it. He lived this way for two, almost three months when one day there came a knock on his door. 

  
"Sir?" Annabelle appeared in his doorway. It had taken him a long time to decide whether to fire his PA or not after her little stunt, but in the end Mycroft knew the young woman was too much of an asset to dismiss. He knew she had learned her lesson, and he also knew it was her he had to thank for his brother's recent behavior. Consulting detective indeed. "There's a visitor here to see you." 

Mycroft looked up from his files, peering at her impassive face with curiosity. "I'm not expecting anyone till after six." He said in surprise. The ambassador he was expected to meet wasn't known to change his plans without plenty of advanced notice, and his assistant certainly knew better than to schedule meetings without his approval.

"You'll want to see him." Annabelle replied. She wore the small, knowing smirk that always made him nervous as she stepped to the side and revealed the last person Mycroft expected to see. "He insisted, sir." 

Greg Lestrade stood awkwardly in his door. It looked as if the detective had come straight from his office, the rain from the day spattering his jacket and darkened his greying hair. For what reason, Mycroft could not say.   
"Gregory." Mycroft rose from his chair to greet his unexpected visitor when a sudden thought caused something cold to grip Mycroft's insides."Is Oliver-"

His face must have given away his fear for Greg was quick to shake his head. "No, he's fine, he's fine." Mycroft sagged in relief. He'd managed to keep himself from checking up on the pair for the two months, which meant two months in which he'd gone without any information on his son's recovery and well-being.

There was a pause in which Greg stared at the floor, and Mycroft stared at Greg. Finally, just as Mycroft began to fidget, Greg spoke again. "He is a bit why I'm here though." Greg looked up to meet Mycroft's eyes, but didn't look long before he shifted his gaze to a paperweight on Mycroft's desk. "He.. told me about what happened in the warehouse."

This news wasn't unexpected. Mycroft had assumed that Oliver would tell him of what had occurred that day. It had been Greg's reaction he hadn't been sure of. Months had gone by since they'd last spoken. He begun to believe that Greg still did not want anything to do with him, possibly he'd misinterpreted the way their son had told the events, but now, here he was. His unpredictable Gregory had shown up just when Mycroft had begun to accept what he had lost. "Why are you here, Gregory?" Mycroft asked. Interacting with the man before him was, as Mycroft had come to learn, a dangerous thing. Greg held his heart in the palm of his hand, Mycroft couldn't have it be crushed by him. Not again.

However, there was something in Greg's expression. Shame, guilt, possibly regret. The detective's eyes shone with other emotions as well, ones Mycroft wasn't sure he was ready to address. "What is it about you, Mycroft?" Greg stared as if hoping Mycroft really would have the answer. "Why is it that only you can make me feel this crazy?"  Mycroft didn't know how to reply, he wasn't sure he ever would. "You and your family have given me plenty of reasons to leave and never look back." Greg shifted his eyes back up to Mycroft's, "Fifteen years, and I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you."

Mycroft's heart began to beat faster. "Why are you here, Gregory?" He asked again, more wearily than before. "I have things that need tending to so kindly make your point or leave."

The demand caused Greg to chuckle. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and the warmth Mycroft always found there seemed diminished with the way Greg continued to stare away from him. "There's that old Holmes charm." The detective sighed. Fidgeting nervously, Greg crossed his arms over his chest. "I came to apologize." Mycroft raised an elegant eyebrow and waited for him to continue. "I know I've been an idiot. I made a snap decision, didn't consider the consequences and I'm... sorry." 

Mycroft sniffed. He could feel his defensive walls drawing themselves up around him, guarding himself from the emotions and distancing himself from the further pain they were sure to bring him. "Is that all?

The air was thick with unspoken words, and Mycroft almost wished he hadn't allowed the Annabelle to permit Greg access. Never seeing him again would be a much nicer fate than what he was facing.  "Ollie misses you." Greg once again dropped his gaze away from Mycroft. The politician was certain Greg knew he wasn't entirely welcome, but still the man persisted. Why did he have to be so stubborn? "He wants to talk with you. Thank you for what you did."

Mycroft frowned. That wasn't at all the answer he'd been expecting. He had learned a long time ago that the other man was very capable of surprising Mycroft, but he had hoped now that they were both adults, and him with so much time spent on perfecting his observation capabilities, that he wouldn't be so defenseless against Greg's power of throwing such curves. "Thank me?" He heard himself ask. "What in heaven's name does he have to thank me for? It was Sherlock who kept him alive till the paramedics arrived. If he should thank anyone, it should be him."

There was a sigh at the mention of Mycroft's brother. "He has already." Greg rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. The look was almost enough to make Mycroft's own twitch into a smile. "Sherlock's taken to showing up at all hours of the day and night. Says it's his privilege as uncle and my consultant, whatever that means." Greg sighed a put-upon sigh then pushed forward in his explanation, "But Ollie, he.. you're his father. You came when he needed you. He wants to thank you for that."

Mycroft thought this over. He wanted to say it didn't matter to him if Oliver wanted to show his gratitude or not, but he found himself to be more touched than he could have expected. "Still," He murmured, "It's an unnecessary gesture, but he should know my office is open to him any time he wants to visit." He thought through his words slowly and chose each with care. He was sure it would sate Greg from making any more unnecessary trips to his office, and even gave him a small hope that Oliver might take up his offer and come to visit him.

For a moment it even seemed to work. Greg was nodding, and his posture had become less defensive and more open. But then, "What about outside your office?"

Mycroft froze where he stood and stared at the man. "What do you mean?" He nervously inquired.

"I mean, you two were always just coming here and having tea." It was all Mycroft had known to do since he had met his son. It wasn't exactly a perfect or ideal arrangement, but the politician had been hoping it would be a good enough routine to keep in contact with the boy. Now Greg's words were making Mycroft question his own methods and his role in Oliver's life. It wasn't a happy feeling. 

"I'm not going to try and tell you how to have a relationship with Oliver. You two have to figure that out on your own, but he," Greg licked his lips, his eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't know what it was he wanted to say, "He likes going to the movies, and playing games. Board games, video games,anything. I think we both know he didn't inherit that trait from me. Hell, I don't think I've beaten him at any game since he turned twelve." Greg's hand rose up to run through his hair. "I just want you to get to know him properly. You won't learn that by sitting him down and forcing tea on him. Believe me." Greg's eyes finally found Mycroft's and the room had less air in it.

  
"I do want to know him." Mycroft replied, his voice so quiet it was bordering on a whisper. The room went quiet again as Mycroft took more time to think through his next words, "And I want to know you again too." 

It was a loaded statement, Mycroft realized. Perhaps too loaded from the way Greg had so sharply looked at him. However, Mycroft made no move to recant his words. His mother and father might no longer view him as a Holmes, but he had been raised as one and that meant always following through with anything he said. The seconds ticked passed and still Greg remained silent. If he left, Mycroft wouldn't stop him, nor would he follow.

  
"I've got the night off," Mycroft studied Greg's face in search of a reason to the sudden statement, "Ollie and I were planning on watching some films. I'm sure he'd like it if you joined us."

The offer was very kind and thoughtful, it was everything Mycroft had hoped for since the day in the hospital. Which was exactly why he knew it couldn't end well. Giving him a small smile, Mycroft shook his head. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

Greg's shoulders slumped. His eyes dropped to the ground, Mycroft could almost feel the disappointment coming off the man in waves. "Yeah," His voice was strangely hollow, "You're probably right."

Mycroft knew it was really the end that time when Greg turned back towards the door, a perfect picture of defeat. He knew it would be for the better. Their relationship had been doomed from the beginning. He knew that, but as Mycroft watched Greg Lestrade about to leave his life for the third time, he refused to accept it. "I'll bring dinner." Greg stopped and looked back at him. "I refuse to eat a layer of greasy cheese and cheap tomato sauce just for the sake of bonding."

As realization bloomed, so did a smile on Greg's face."I think we can accept the sacrifice." He replied, once again turning to fully face Mycroft.

Both their postures had loosened and the air around them no longer held the same tension it once had. "How have his studies been getting on?" Mycroft asked, not yet ready for Greg to leave his office. "You haven't been letting him slack, I hope. A bullet wound is no reason for a person to fall behind."

Greg let out another snorting laugh, giving Mycroft a shake of his head.   "A lot of people would say that's a perfect reason, actually."

Mycroft replied with a sigh. He could see no reasons to joke about their son's education. "Gregory," He started.

"Mycroft." Greg interrupted, playfully mocking the other man. His eyes sparkled with humor and Mycroft didn't even try to keep a straight face. A smile to match Greg's blossomed across his features and for a moment the two could only laugh and grin. 

Greg was the first to speak. "We're never going to learn, are we?"

"One can certainly hope not." 

It wouldn't be an easy relationship for any of them. They would all make mistakes and there would be fights and angry words, but so long as Greg and Oliver were willing to remain in his life, Mycroft would try everyday to make amends for their past mistakes, and to learn and grow with them through the years. His family might not have been what he'd once imagined, but he wouldn't change it for anything.


End file.
